Reflections
by Blackgenius
Summary: Oneshot. In the halls of Numenor, Elros reconsiders his decision to become mortal. Rated T for no good reason except for that I'm new to the ratings.


**Reflections**

A/N: This is my first fic. Just something i thought up while I was reading the book. I appreciate all reviews.

Disclaimer: I do not own Tolkien's books, his characters, or any of his work.

Elros Tar-Minyatur stood at the top of his high tower, looking over the great land that he ruled. He gave an approving nod. This was how Numenor should be. Peaceful but strong, and ever-growing in wisdom. He prided himself in the splendour of the land of the Star. His father would've been pleased.

Elros sighed and turned away from the balcony. Old as he was, he still found it hard to forget the sadness of his youth. He turned to his throne and sighed again. Numenor was great and pleasant, but sometimes he wished he had remained with the last of his family.

He felt a pang of sadness.

Elrond.

He had not seen his brother in at least three-hundred years. Time moved quickly, even for one as long-lived as him. He wished more than anything to see his brother again. They had been very close in youth. He often considered temporarily leaving his throne and sailing to Middle Earth. But he did not. After all that had happened, he suspected that Elrond nursed several bitter feelings against him. To be honest, Elros couldn't blame him. But he had always stood by his decision. Until recently. He had wondered, if he had chosen differently, what things would have been like. There were times when he would think that he wouldn't be able to stand that endless existence, but there were other times when he thought it might be worth it if he could see his brother again. Elros slowly moved towards a large stone standing, atop which sat one of the seven palantir. One of the many gifts given to them by the elves.

Elros extended his hand, nervous excitement sweeping through him. He had often used the palantir to oversee his kingdom, but never to look upon Middle Earth, and certainly never for personal reasons. He had not seen his homeland since his childhood days, and then only the parts that were now beneath the sea, never the lands that his older brother was now surely living in.

Very cautiously, Elros placed his hand over the strange, misty stone ball. At once, his hand sealed itself to the palantir, and the King of Numenor heaved it to eye level. Elros's eyes bore into the palantir, and he began to see more than foggy darkness. An image of wide grasslands formed itself before the king's eyes. Figures that were unmistakably elves rode across the grass on tall horses. Elros used his mind to navigate through the illusion of the world. Elros crossed great lakes, mountains, plains and rivers, until he reached a great ford. Beyond the ford was what Elros was sure was a great Elven city. Moving through its vast area, the king finally reached its heart. And there, in a large room, bending over a low table and surrounded by fellow elves, stood Elrond.

Elros bathed in the happiness of seeing his brother again. Elrond had grown older, taller, and obviously wiser. Elrond's room bore unmistakable signs of being lived in by a great scholar and wise tutor, yet a great leader and a brave warrior. His area was covered in scrolls and old books in nearly every nook and cranny. Guards stood at his door. His sword, Hadhafang, sat mounted on the wall. Hadhafang was once the sword of their grandmother, Idril Celebrindal. She had used it during the fall of Gondolin, before passing it on to her son, Earendil, who carried it in the War of Wrath. When he had passed over the sea, he had handed it to his eldest son, Elrond. It was an elegant blade, slightly curved and engraved with flowing elven script.

A beautiful weapon.

The weapon of an elf.

Elros felt sorrow and sadness crash down upon him. For the first time in his life, he wished he had chosen differently. Years of separation from his family and the memories of a childhood of strife that had built up inside him for years burst free like a breaking dam. He wept freely, pouring out his sorrows as he saw the life his brother led. His whole family had been elves. He had always been the odd one out.

He turned back to his brother. Elrond looked up from the scroll, and Elros looked into his eyes to the first time in almost four hundred years.

The image whirled and disappeared, and Elros staggered back: the connection was broken. The palantir slipped from his hand and fell to the ground. Breathing heavily, Elros collapsed into a chair. For a moment he just sat there, half in shock. Revelation swept through him as he sat. Somehow, he and Elrond had communicated over the miles. He knew his brother had felt the same thing he had; perhaps he had also staggered as well. Elros had seen something in the eyes of his brother, sadness, slight bitterness, but also love and…._admiration?_

He understood now. Elrond felt the same as he did. Elrond wished_ he_ had chosen differently. And now Elros knew. They could both wish that they had made different choices for the rest of their lives, but what was done was done, and both of them had been born to be what they had become.

Elros sighed. But this was not a sigh of sorrow or exhaustion. It was a sigh of happiness. He remained true to his choice, as did Elrond, but they would still always be brothers. And still, after everything, that was all that mattered.

Well there we go. I hope that was good. As i said, please review, I'd really appreciate it. Thanks!


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